


My Mermaid

by MrsLadyNight



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Drama & Romance, Happy Ending, Historical References, M/M, Non-Chronological, Points of View
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-31 23:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20248708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsLadyNight/pseuds/MrsLadyNight
Summary: Something strange is happening at the Black Sea resort, in Balaklava, where Yuuri Katsuki comes to think about life and decide where and how to move on. Or maybe local superstitions and legends about mermaids do not lie, because soon Yuuri gets acquainted with an unexpectedly revived one....





	My Mermaid

Tell me, do you believe in mermaids?

I personally believe. Somewhere under the rock

From myths about mysterious vestals

A tail will fly up, flickering blue.

Then a face will appear with a smile on it.

On the neck there are fine pearls in three rows.

A cold sight. In big eyes sadness

And loneliness and trouble have frozen.

On rocks, on the sand and just in the sea

There is Paradise for mermaids, or maybe Hell.

And meeting them will promise you some grief

Not a joy. So legends say.

But contrary to scandalous prejudices

And logic I believe in miracles.

I’d like to see a mermaid for a moment,

Just to say hello ... to stay forever. *

***

_Some excerpts from newspaper articles of “Balaklava Dolphin”:_

_ ... As our venerable readers probably know, the revival of Balaklava took place at the end of the 19th century and was associated with the development of the city as a resort. In the 1860s, the imperial family acquired Livadia, and already in the 1870s, the southern coast of Crimea became a fashionable holiday destination for aristocracy. The first person to appreciate the potential of Balaklava as a resort was K. A. Skirmunt: in the 1870s, having settled in the city, he opened a boarding house in his own house, and in 1888 he organized a mud clinic on the embankment._

_ In 1887, on the New Embankment, at number 3, the first hotel in the city was opened, so called “Grand Hotel”. Then came the hotel "Russia", the owner of which was Mayor Spiridon Ginali ... **_

_ Hurry, hurry to book yourself a room in advance in the above-mentioned famous boarding house, mud clinic and hotel!!! An unforgettable vacation and treatment are awaiting you. The sea air of Balaklava itself will become your doctor!_

_ ... Already several fishermen, who went out of the bay early in the morning to the open sea to catch red mullet, saw on a rock, which we call Lion’s Head, a strange creature resembling a mermaid in outline. Eyewitnesses described that animal the following way: the entire body and limbs are silver-blue, long blue hair, falling on the face and torso in front, thereby preventing a more detailed examination of the features of that creature. Our residents are at a loss: what is it? Another raffle of local jokers or an unprecedented scientific discovery?_

_ ... The first real Japanese has settled in Balaklava at the hotel “Russia”, but he eschews local society, preferring to spend time either in his room, or going out to the sea by boat, or climbing surrounding rocks. We will inform readers about everything that our correspondent will be able to find out about this mysterious Yuuri Katsuki (as a young man has signed up in the hotel’s registration book)._

**POV Yuuri**

My mother has always been considered an excellent cook (both at home, in Japan, and here in Russia). Having been brought from Hasetsu (the name of my hometown) to Petersburg by a Russian diplomat who offered her a contract worthy of her skills, she was able to open and maintain one of the first Japanese restaurants in the northern capital with his help.

Why did Mom agree to that offer? Because when my dad died, our family was left without a livelihood. Mother's relatives from the very beginning did not approve of her marriage and refused to help in difficult times. But fortunately, my mother had already been working as a cook at the Russian embassy. And when such an advantageous offer arrived, she agreed immediately.

At the time of our move to Petersburg, I was in my sixteenth year. We settled in one of the apartment buildings, which was located near my mother’s restaurant. I practically didn’t see Mother, because she was very responsible and worked from early morning until late at night, checking the products delivered to the restaurant, counting the proceeds, talking with customers about the quality of dishes, etc., etc. But I was not bored or lonely, or scared. I read, continued to study Russian and was preparing to enter the historical faculty of St. Petersburg University (I really liked Russia, its history, its literature, and especially its fairy tales, so unlike Japanese legends).

Thanks to communication with children of diplomats and staff from the Russian embassy, I had already been speaking well, reading and writing in Russian in Japan. So all my lonely hours were filled with what I liked and did not burden either the mind or the heart.

I entered the university and had studied for four years, and then ... The climate of St. Petersburg is so insidious and not acceptable for everyone. First, my mother fell ill with pneumonia and, having spent two weeks in a fever, she died. Then I laid down, apparently, had frozen at the funeral, and my body, having injured and weakened by the stress from my beloved mother’s death, was happy to plunge into the disease. Like her, for two weeks I had been rushing about in the heat on the border between the world of the living and the dead, but then my young body once again gave a kick and began recovering. When I was discharged from hospital, an elderly doctor advised me to go to the resort for a full recovery and called the mud clinic of Balaklava.

I returned to my empty cold house, poked around from corner to corner and realized that something had to be changed in my life. Why not go to recover and relax in Balaklava? What shall I do with the restaurant? I don’t know how to cook at all?!

And then I decided to sell my mother’s restaurant, and settle on the proceeds somewhere in a more acceptable for me climate. At the university, I took a year of academic leave. Since I studied well, the University Directorate suggested that I should take medical treatment, study, and pass final exams as an external student. I promised to think about their offer and, having bought a train ticket, I went to the resort...

***

... I've been here for the second month. The weather is beautiful. It’s almost always sunny, the air smells with sea salt and pine trees. The restaurant's menu at the hotel is full of different fish and marine reptiles, as well as fruits and vegetables. In the mud clinic, where I go three days a week, nurses and doctors are polite and courteous. In a word, rest and be treated!

But I'm bored and lonely, which is strange, because there are my favorite books, textbooks and an album with family photos with me. But ... my soul wants something else! Maybe I walk a little?! But quite often at a morning dawn I go out to the sea with fishermen and help them with nets, or go along a winding path to mountains and have been sitting there for a long time on stones or grass, meditating.

My Russian has completely improved, I speak with a slightly noticeable accent, which does not interfere the locals (in shops or the library, or in the market) to chuckle kindly in conversations with me (but only on business!). I do not blame them. In Hasetsu, a Russian would also cause excitement and curiosity.

Do I want to go home? I do not know. Nobody is waiting for me there. And I do not want to deal with relatives. I blame them in my mother’s death. After all, if they had helped us then, after my dad’s death, Mom would not have had to leave for Russia and she would not have been ill. Although ... As they say in Russian proverbs: "You do not know where you will find, where you will lose" and "I would know where to fall, I would put straws."

And yesterday I bought a local newspaper and read the news about myself. I wonder how they are going to find out the details of my life. Will they openly send a reporter to me to give him or her some interview, or they will secretly follow me what many tabloid newspapers (the so-called "yellow" press) do not disdain?

But most of all I was struck, interested, shocked, I didn’t even know what was more, with some news about a mermaid. For some reason, I didn’t even doubt that that was another local youth’s rally. How strange has that sounded?! Youth! Have I recorded myself in old people? Although ... there is a reason ... I, as many elderly people do at times, began to watch other people closely. More precisely, one of them.

***

In the room next to me lives (I heard his name and title in a restaurant somehow at breakfast) Russian prince Viktor Nikiforov. Like me, he doesn’t communicate with anyone and spends days, either sitting on a beach in an armchair near the water, having lowered his legs into the water (moreover, he can sit this way all day, even without food, reading a book or plunging into a slumber), or coming twice a week (Monday and Thursday, or Tuesday and Friday, or Wednesday and Saturday) early in the morning on the beach in one long dressing gown (in any weather!), boldly throws it off his shoulders onto the sand, remaining completely naked, comes to the water and immediately dives, swims some distance under the water, emerges and again goes under the water. And then he swims off somewhere, and when he returns, no one knows.

His clothes lie on the sand all day so lonely until either I or some other kind person will lift them, shake out the sand, and, having folded carefully, leave them on a sun bed. Sometimes servants from the hotel pick up them and take them to Nikiforov's room. How does this man return to the building then? Naked? Although I would not be surprised at this. The prince is not shy about anyone, looks down on everyone.

But my good! How beautiful he is! Sometimes I specially wake up at four in the morning and go to the window. Sometimes I manage to see him, sometimes not. He is beautiful as Apollo. Tall, thin, but not with painful thinness. All muscles are developed and interestingly bumpy: both the ankles, and the shoulder girdle, and the arms, which is not surprising if he swims so much. Long (below the waist) ash-silver hair either flows freely from his chiseled shoulders or is collected in a low tail. The face, as if fashioned by a skilled craftsman, with piercing blue cold and austere eyes, delicate but always stubbornly pressed pink lips and a thin neat nose. The living embodiment of Eros or the revived statue of some ancient Greek god.

I can admire him for hours. To do this, I also come to the beach when he is resting there, and putting my sun bed in such a way as to see this local deity, I put dark glasses on and having covered myself with a wide-brimmed hat, I literally eat Victor with my eyes. Maybe it would be necessary just to come in a neighborly way to introduce myself and offer to communicate? But ... The detached, self-absorbed look of this cold frosty prince does not allow me to approach one step, what can be said about talking.

***

A week ago, Nikiforov, as usual, left the hotel being in a dressing gown, undressed on the beach, dived into the sea and ... disappeared. The hotel staff got used to his extravagant antics and did not show concern. I'm just overjoyed! Where is he? Why didn’t he return to his room? Well, hasn’t the mermaid, in fact, drowned him?

And I decided, at my own peril and risk, to ask some fisherman for a day’s boat and to raft all the places where vacationers could sunbathe (except the beach) or climb rocks. I’d already learned well how to handle oars, so having put Victor’s clothes into the boat, as well as two light blankets, a flask of water and some bread; I sailed to the exit of the bay. Having recalled the places mentioned in the newspaper about the appearance of the mermaid, I began to examine them.

I spent half a day in the sea. Not a trace of Nikiforov. Then I decided to moor to a small bay behind Lion's Head to eat calmly, relax and think about the situation. That something happened to Victor; I had no doubt for a minute.

Already approaching the beach there, I noticed to myself that the water, usually emerald-bluish, was here for some reason painted in scarlet-brown color. Having jumped into the water off the coast, I led the boat onto the sand and fastened it with a rope to the nearest huge boulder so that the ebb or flow (I do not understand these intricacies) would not drag it into the sea. The whole coast was also painted with some red paint; moreover, it was smeared on the beach with strange long stripes that led, like tracks, deep into the rocks.

In principle, I can’t stand the sight of blood (and I didn’t doubt that it was it, because its sweet smell flew in the air), and here I was overwhelmed by an incomprehensible excitement. In a word, I almost lost consciousness. But, with great difficulty, having taken myself in hand, I forced my legs to move towards a small cave, which I noticed in the distance. And something was lying in it and did not move.

Subconsciously, I was preparing for what, or rather, whom I would see there. But…

The mermaid was lying in the sand, face down. Its huge tail was literally torn into two halves to the knees (?), its hands, also wounded and bleeding, lay lifelessly outstretched, like huge algae, along the body. The tangled dull hair was scattered in a circle and covered the face and body.

Having looked closely, I noticed its back wavering slightly, and then I heard a rustling whisper: “Drink”, pronounced in Russian.

I rushed back to the boat, shouldered two blankets, grabbed water and bread. Having pulled all that into the cave, I fell to my knees near the mermaid and with difficulty, but turned it on its back. In front, the picture looked no better: scratches, cuts. Everywhere there was mud, dirt and blood. While I was examining the wounds and not paying attention to its face, there was another groan: "Drink!" Only then did I come to my senses and, having grabbed a flask in one hand, tried to raise the creature's head with the other. Its hair moved from its face because of my movement, and although everything was covered with dirt and blood, Victor’s face appeared before me. The eyes were closed, the lips were blue and white, the nostrils were swelling eagerly, smelling the water. I helped the Russian get drunk, and only then did he open his eyes.

At first, his defocused gaze was wandering around the cave, and then it became more and more meaningful, and finally stopped at me.

\- Is that you, Yuri? - (Does he know my name? Where from?) - How have you found me? - Then the mermaid twitched and groaned, - it hurts, it hurts everywhere ... The shark ... It is again ... - And Victor lost consciousness.

\- Whether it is a dream or reality, a person or an animal, but now I will not panic, - I told myself sternly and mentally gave myself cuffs.

I spread one blanket on the sand and dragged Nikiforov onto it. Since he was a sea creature, it meant that he must be restored in his natural environment, I decided and dragged the heavy body to the sea. Having put him in shallow water so that waves would pleasantly flow over his wounded body, I took off my shirt and having torn it into strips, first washed away all the dirt and blood from the man, and then pulled the halves of the torn tail together with the pieces of the shirt; with the last piece I bandaged the hair having washed and braided in a braid so as not to interfere. I covered the man with the second blanket. Then I sat beside him, bit three times bread and drank it down with some water.

\- I'll wait what will happen next, - I decided. - There’s still time until the evening, and then I’ll figure something out.”

Before sunset, Victor became conscious three more times and asked for a drink. It got colder; the water ran out, a huge round moon crawled out into the sky, lights of stars poured out. Nobody was looking for us. Not a single boat passed all day. I could only rely on myself.

I got up, threw the top blanket to the side and froze. The mermaid’s tail under the bandages had disappeared, instead of which bandages wrapped around two human broken legs, but the bleeding had stopped and the small wounds had healed. Victor no longer moaned, but did not open his eyes. I wrapped the wounded man in the lower blanket, picked him up with difficulty in my arms and carried him into the boat.

Carefully having lowered my burden to the bottom, I returned for the second blanket, squeezed it out and covered Victor with it. Having unfastened the boat from the boulder, I pushed it off the coast, jumped in and grabbed the oars. Having told myself not to analyze the past day and having promised myself to faint in my room, I stubbornly raked towards the beach.

The night was clear but cool. If I had not rowed so desperately and quickly, I probably would have frozen. Already in the distance the lights of the hotel and houses were shining, I was already looking forward to taking Nikiforov to hospital, but suddenly over the water I noticed a shark fin, which was rushing right onto the boat. Was that the one the mermaid mentioned? Did it smell the blood or guard? It doesn't matter anymore. I began rowing faster. The current, helping me, carried our boat straight to the beach. But involuntarily it helped the shark to swim. Several times it almost caught up with us and hit in the stern with its nose.

“If the boat rolls over, we will both die,” - I thought, and, having unfolded the oar, prepared to fight off with its sharp end. The shark caught up with us again. And when its face appeared, rising from the water, with all my strength, with all my might, I hit that beast in the eye. The oar plunged into the shark's body halfway, it literally yelled (if you could call those sounds a scream), spun in place (I barely managed to turn the boat away from it) and ... disappeared in the waves.

With one oar, I continued, that there was strength, to row to the shore. And when nothing was left before it, I cried out:

\- Help! Help!

***

_Excerpts from newspaper articles of “Balaklava Dolphin”:_

_... in our quiet resort a real tragedy has happened. Prince, Victor Nikiforov, while bathing near Lion’s Head, was attacked by a shark. Sailing by boat, our unsociable guest from Japan saved the prince and killed the shark with an oar. The corpse of the latter was caught the next morning by fishermen and publicly burned in the square. The prince is now undergoing treatment in a local hospital (both his legs are broken, multiple bruises of his ribs and minor cuts all over his body). Doctors promise an incomplete recovery, as they fear that the prince will limp on one, more damaged leg, and he will have to walk with a cane all his life. A recovering person is visited by his savior every day. It seems that the young people have become friends..._

**POV Victor**

Yuuri comes to me every day, brings newspapers, books, fruits, and has been sitting nearby for a long time, just holding my hand. We are just silent and looking into each other's eyes. And there is nothing nicer and healthier than this silence, this silent understanding of each other's feelings and thoughts. Sometimes, Yuuri takes both of my hands in his, brings them to his lips, kisses them gently, and then his eyes are filled with tears. Then I say quietly: - Yuuri, I’ve survived only thanks to you! Do not worry! I’ll get better soon.

What I like about this cute, modest Japanese is that he doesn't question me about anything. It was as if he’d taken it for granted that the prince and the mermaid are one and the same person, which is as it should be. I still can’t believe that he had been able to kill the shark, and it had not done harm to him.

Well, I think I can trust him, tell him my secret, because Yuuri has done so much for me. He will understand and not push away.

***

From my childhood, it was whispered that princes from Nikiforov’s clan had been cursed by one ancient sorcerer for pride, for arrogance, for his daughter’s death. She fell in love with our ancestor, who seduced and abandoned her. The girl, not having endured such a shame, decided to drown herself. When she was already flying into the waves from the cliff, her father was able to turn his daughter into a mermaid and, having fallen into the sea, she did not die, but she could not return to the land, as the surrounding people were afraid of sea creatures and drove them away into the sea. Her father, so cruelly torn from his daughter, quickly surrendered and cursed our family on his deathbed.

Now all men, having reached the age of 16, turned into mermaids and had to either go to the sea or live nearby, in order to swim in the water for a long time (more than 16 hours). As soon as they plunged to the depth of more than 5 meters, their legs turned into a tail, the whole body was covered with scales, and the face turned into a mask of a fish. It was clear that that curse could not but affect family and social life and income. However, over time, our men adapted, moved closer to the sea, worked out strict rules of life and communication with people.

***

When I was sixteen, that evening I began to choke, and the servants, by my mother’s order, carried me to a man-made pond located on the territory of our estate. In the water it became easier for me, I rushed to swim and spin in the water, and suddenly I found a tail and a kind of scales. I was lucky, my mother was nearby on the platform, and when I swam to her, she told about the family curse.

But I was young and hot. I wanted to love and be loved, I longed to travel, to see the world. But the curse prevailing over me prevented me from living. I rushed to the worst of my ability: I drank, hobbled with courtesans and courtesans, and played Russian roulette, fought with a bear and hungry dogs. The impression was that I was just, burning my life, looking for death.

My mother soon died. The estate was mortgaged. Health problems began, since I had not spent the necessary time in the water. And once, wandering around the city completely thoughtlessly, I came into some Catholic church, sat on a bench and cried. A priest, passing by, sat down beside me and, putting his hand on my shoulder, asked: - Confess, my son. I do not promise that all problems will be resolved, but it will become easier for you.

I grinned evilly and said: - You won’t believe me at all, because the church denies the supernatural.

The monk sighed heavily, was silent for a moment and again asked: - But you still tell. And then we'll see...

And I told the priest my tragic story. He listened calmly, did not interrupt, did not anathema, and when I finished my story, he simply said: - What does not kill us makes us stronger. This is your share, my son. For something, God sent you this particular test. Accept it with dignity! And I will pray for you. - Then the monk got up and left.

And the next day, having paid my family debts with family treasures and having left only my grandmother’s pearl set, consisting of a necklace, two bracelets, earrings and a hair clip, I bought a ticket for the train going to Balaklava and finally accepted my fate and myself.

Having settled on arrival at the hotel “Russia”, I closed myself off from all people and devoted myself to a curse, that is, to the sea, swimming, and turning. And soon I began to enjoy it. I stopped getting sick, got stronger, got muscles and inhuman strength. I did not care about the opinions of others, because I could not tell my secret, and hardly anyone would understand and accept me.

My only friends were dolphins and a few gulls. And to both, I brought some fish; with dolphins I swam racing and diving into the depths of the sea; with gulls I jumped off the rocks and soared for a short moment above the water.

Several times I drove different sharks from the cubs of dolphins. But one did not let up. And then I set adult males of dolphins on it. They gave the shark a good thrashing, and it disappeared for a while. I forgot about it.

I was interested in something else, or rather, someone else. A cute Japanese man who’d settled next to me in the next room and was watching me, thinking that I did not notice or did not see it. I already decided to talk with a neighbor, get to know, chat, and make friends. But... after another swim.

I was so carried away by dreams of Yuuri that I did not notice how from the dark depths, from the shadows of the sea, my old "friend" came. It immediately grabbed my tail with its teeth and pulled me deep. I dashed off with all my strength, a terrible pain slashed my tail, but I felt that I had escaped from the capture. The shore was very close, and I hurried there. The shark attacked again, but now I was at least ready for it. Remembering that the most sensitive shark’s place is its nose, I turned around so that I hit it with my fist or elbow.

Already losing consciousness because of pain, somehow I crawled ashore and pulled my wounded body to the cave. There I lost consciousness, and woke up with the taste of fresh water on my lips...

***

When I finished the story and asked Yuuri to give me a glass of water, the Japanese, having done that, burst into tears. And I was pleased that someone was crying for me and about me. And then Yuuri moved closer to me, hugged me with both hands and, carefully pressing me to himself, exhaled: - I won’t let anyone offend you again. I will stay with you as much as you allow. And you know what? Let's go to Japan. There you will be comfortable and live and swim. - And then the Japanese kissed me gently.

***

_Excerpts from newspaper articles of “Balaklava Dolphin”:_

_ ... this holiday season is full of dramas and scandals. Prince Viktor Nikiforov and our modest, Japanese Yuuri Katsuki, according to eyewitnesses, are in strange relationships. They are often seen walking in an embrace and sometimes kissing._

_ According to the director of the local bank, the prince’s recently pledged (without redemption) his grandmother’s pearl set for some tidy sum. And with the proceeds, young people are going to leave for Japan._

_ Where is our century going? - exclaims a respectable layman, even if princes allow themselves such behavior..._

**POV Makkachin**

An interview that could give “Balaklava Dolphin” one very charming dog, but did not give, because people do not understand the dog’s language.

Good day! I am a six month old puppy named Makkachin. I have two excellent, but very strange owners: the first is a Japanese, kind, calm and understanding, but sometimes exploding on his husband, who violates his swimming schedule, and the second one is half-fish, half-man, a mermaid (as I’ve heard), reckless, carried away but also kind and loving.

We live in a small house near the ocean. Yuuri (the Japanese) fusses around the house, cooks and translates fairy tales. He has already published two books: Russian fairy tales in Japanese and Japanese ones in Russian. Each time in honor of the publication of Yuuri’s new book, our mermaid got drunk to zero, and then his husband literally “soaked” him in the sea.

By the way, the second owner swims a lot. And interestingly, he moves slowly on land, with difficulty, leaning on a cane and slightly dragging his left leg, but swims freely and quickly. And I swim with him, if only he is near the coast and does not go to the sea - to play with dolphins. And when he is on land, he paints pictures with the same marine plot. His paintings are selling well. People like the color, light and acceptance of the ocean as a living being (also I’ve overheard these words).

So the three of us live friendly, funny and happy. I wish you all the same. Woof!

**Author's Note:**

> * My poem in prose  
** Information is taken from Wikipedia


End file.
